


this might not be healthy (but i can't really stop it)

by ekbelfield



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, gosh this break up has been difficult, he still loves her, oliver patrols felicity's new neighborhood, post 4x16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6347668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ekbelfield/pseuds/ekbelfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m sorry, Felicity.  I’m not like you.  I can’t bury what I feel.  You know how I get.  I swear you’ve catalogued all my brooding expressions.”  She snorts, and it feels like he’s won something.  “I won’t stay, but please, don’t ask me to go.  If you won’t let me love you, at least let me protect you.”</p>
<p>*</p>
<p>Oliver can't rest until he knows Felicity's new apartment is safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this might not be healthy (but i can't really stop it)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> So we survive the mini-hiatus only for them to rip our hearts out. Again. I've actually really enjoyed the break up episodes, because Stephen and Emily have been crushing it, and it gives me lots of ideas.
> 
> This takes place after the action of 4x16. There's no way Oliver lets Felicity move out without checking to make sure her new place is secure.
> 
> I can't wait for these crazy kids to find their way back to one another. In the meantime, enjoy the fic!

Oliver checked the perimeter one last time before taking up residence on the rooftop, observing the building across the street. It was a non-descript apartment building, unremarkable except for the window lined with polka dotted curtains, light still on inside. The darkness gave him cover, eyes glinting in the moonlight under the hood and mask. Oliver paced, glancing at the window periodically as he repeatedly checked the surroundings.

He could see Felicity, his favorite bespectacled blonde, in her kitchen, entertaining her new neighbors. She smiled and laughed, but even from across the street Oliver could see she wasn’t as light as usual. He forced down his guilt at causing her pain, at their mutual pain feedback loop, returning his attention to the street below before he could get sucked down that particular vortex.

He lost track of time as he paced, his only marker that the evening had progressed was the decreasing number of occupants in Felicity’s apartment, until finally she was alone. Oliver let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, but continued his rhythmic pacing, continually cataloguing the cars on the street, and the passerby on the sidewalks.

His steps faltered when Felicity opened the window. He half expected her to lean out and yell. “Go away” or “Go home” or some other variation of crushing Oliver’s heart, of crushing her own. Instead her face was expressionless as she watched him, before turning away from the window, leaving it open.

Oliver’s heart leapt at the apparent invitation, and he hesitated only a moment before launching an arrow across the road, watching it embed itself in the opposite wall, before descending down the rope to her window. He gracefully slid through the window, stowing his bow, before turning his attention to the small, stoic woman in front of him.

“What are doing here, Oliver?” She’s quiet, resigned.

_Shit_ , Oliver thinks. He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Felicity’s quiet words cut him off.

“Because my neighbors saw you out there. They were wondering what the vigilante was doing in a nice neighborhood like this.” She pauses. “Even when I leave, I still can’t get away.”

“Felicity.” It’s a wish and a prayer.

“No. You don’t get to say my name like that. Not now.” She rubs her neck before sighing. “Go ho- go back to the loft, Oliver.” She turns, walks towards her bedroom without looking back.

“I tried.” He starts, making her stop, but not turn around. “I tried going home, but it was never home without you.” He looks around, trying to ignore the details that Felicity has imbued into her new apartment so quickly, all the things that are so quintessentially _her_. It pains him that she felt the need to completely extricate her life from his.

He sees that she’s stiffened, frozen and waiting. He’d say anything to get her to turn around. Maybe that’s the problem.

“I’m sorry, Felicity. I’m not like you. I can’t bury what I feel. You know how I get. I swear you’ve catalogued all my brooding expressions.” She snorts, and it feels like he’s won something. “I won’t stay, but please, don’t ask me to go. If you won’t let me love you, at least let me protect you.”

She scoffs, angry, finally turning towards him. “I’m not some damsel you need to…”

He puts his hands up, placating, stopping her rant in its tracks. “I know. I’m not asking because I think you need it. I’m asking because I need it.” She tilts her head, considering, so he makes one last effort. “I can’t close my eyes without thinking of all the ways I screwed up. After all of the danger I’ve put you in, I owe you this. Let me do this.”

She softens, ever so slightly, taking a step towards him. “Oliver, this isn’t healthy. You need to sleep for one. And I need to live my own life. We need to learn how to live without each other, and you being here is not helping me do that.”

“That’s why I stayed on the roof.” He looks down at his hands, unable to meet her eyes. “I know you want to move on. I’m not there yet. I’m not going to get there being in the loft where everything reminds me of the life I had with you.” His hands start to shake. “I thought seeing you, keeping an eye on you, making sure you were happy, I thought it would help.” I thought you would take me back. He manages to keep his thought to himself, just barely.

She steps towards him them, squeezes his hand, and he has to take a deep breath to reign in his emotions.

“I want you to sleep on the couch for a few hours before you go back out there, okay?” Felicity always knew him better than anyone. He nods, not trusting his voice, so she lets go of his hand and goes to get a pillow and sheet for the couch, not looking at Oliver where he stands, imposing as ever but frozen in her living room.

“Good night, Oliver.” She says, the fondness in her tone mending his heart, just a little.

“Good night, Felicity.” 

He loves her, so he sheds his jacket and lies down on the couch, leaning his bow and quiver against the end table. The pillow smells like her.

He loves her, so he tries to sleep, he does, but instead he drinks in every detail of the new space, committing it all to memory. This is how her life looks without him in it.

He loves her, so he heads back to the rooftop, resumes his pacing, until the first rays of light reach the sky above him. Being alone is something familiar, even if the ache of it is not.

He loves her, so he’s gone by the time she’s drinking her morning coffee. If she lies on the couch just to inhale his scent, he’ll never know.


End file.
